Google
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project
to make the world's books discoverable online.
It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.
Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the
publisher to a library and finally to you.
Usage guidelines
Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing tliis resource, we liave taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.
We also ask that you:
+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.
+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.
+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for in forming people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe.
About Google Book Search
Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web
at |http: //books .google .com/I
- --- - - - , _ «^
.Jiirf.:-
Copyright, 1917, by
PAUL ELDEB AND COMPANY
San Franoisoo
• • -•
• •
■iif*"^ -*^- i^M^
r-r- f idh
-*f f.^ J
TO MY STEPMOTHER
CORA BROUGHTON HUGHES
WHO FILLED MY CHILDHOOD WITH POETRY
AND WHOSE LOVE AND PATIENCE
HAVE BEEN
MIRACLES IN MY LIFE
MtfMMariMi^HiBMtaC^<^.j_HiL^_ . .\ .--.^., ... - ,_^^±,^i2b
Contents
PAGE
Souls 3
Carmel Valley — ^A Memoky 4
Morning Song 6
The Burden Bearer 7
The Element Shop 8
Understanding Never 10
A Las Novias Tristes — Cuento de Labios en
Flor 11
Roles 14
J'ai Cherche Trente Ans, Mes Soeurs ... 15
La Flute Amere de L'Automne 16
Monterey 17
I Have Grown Very Tired 18
Snow Falling 19
Prayer of the Aesthete 20
All Merry are the Lighted Streets Christ-
mas Day 22
Black and White 24
Revolt 25
Conviction 26
A Conception 28
Transformation 30
Over Lummi 31
V
ContenM
PAGE
Across the Sea 32
Illusion 33
I Have Builded a Citadel 34
Song 36
In Absence 37
Ships ' 38
Fkom a High Hill 40
By the Way 42
Song in Absence 44
HicJacet 45
Incident 46
Sonnet TO Silence 48
The Path of No Returning 49
Thou Temptress, Moon ! 50
Through My Latticed Window 51
Look, Love, upon the Sea 52
Thoughts on a Spring Night 54
Fire of the Desert - . . 55
Spring Morn .56
A Tent-light on the Desert 58
Three Kisses 59
Like Death 60
Night Song 62
VI
iNniUs onli ^tl^eir $oetitf
••• . -
When I have vanished from the ranks of men
And joined the greater caravan
That treads far spaces,
I wonder, O Beloved of the earth, what you
will be to me.
I think I shall forget the rose —
Dear, delicate brother of the soil;
I think I shall forget the sea —
Grey, wild waste of mystery;
I think I shall forget the fields —
Wide, warm cradle of the living;
These are of the earth, as is my body.
But how. Beloved, when I join the caravan.
Can my immortal soul forget its light.
Transcendent beauty of a kindred sort.
Flaming through the corridors of being
Alive, ever alive !
Spark of the iidiite, imperishable light
Burning in the hand of God ?
ToA.V.
The moon last night took me away
A thousand miles from here;
To where a silent valley lay
And where the sea was near.
Along the hill a white road ran,
It twisted, rose and fell;
I could not see where it began.
Its end I could not tell.
And somewhere there was lilac wild.
It drifted on the air;
That may be why the pale moon smiled
And why the stars were fair.
Across the valley, dim below,
A wavering night-wind crept;
And stirred the grasses to and fro—
They murmured as they slept.
Far down tiie little river dreamed,
And glided to the sea^
It sang no song, but rather seemed
Blind to its destiny.
And ere it reached the thin white line
That glinted on the shore,
A pallid mist, silken and fine,
The sea sent on before.
It wrapped the river in its arms.
And kissed its languid eyes;
With warm breath and with drowsy charms
It stilled the river's sighs.
And so the river died in sleep,
Murmuring not a word;
Only the grasses cared to weep —
Their tears the night-wind heard.
rhe white road lay along the hill,
The moon took me away;
I could have wept — I could weep still,
I wanted so to stay.
iKomtng i^otts
Awake ! awake !
For Dawn has scaled the battlements of Night
And lo ! the East is glorified with light !
Awake ! awake !
Yo-holyo-ho!
Come o*er the sea — there is a merry gale!
Come o*er the land — wild flowers are in the
vale!
Yo-ho ! yo-ho !
Ha-ha! ha-ha!
This wine of life is ah ! so sweet to sip !
That Death shall find — a smile upon my lip !
Ha-ha ! ha-ha !
Wl)t iSttrben iSearer
You ask why poets seem so old and grave,
And why their forms are very often bent —
Their faces furrowed, eyes deep with intent
And lights that speak of many things they
crave
And cannot find. And so you ask what gave
These strange appearances — what fires God
sent
Through human mind and limb that could
have lent
Outward distortions when the soul was brave.
Ah, have you seen the twisted cypress tree.
Bearing the sorrows of a thousand years ?
The poet stands upon a high, bare point,
And, like the cypress, listens to the sea —
A sea made out of myriad human tears.
That rise about him, and his feet anoint.
Wt^t Clement i^fiop
Have you ever heard tell of the Element Shop
Away out where the West and the East both
stop,
And the old world knows neither bottom nor
top?
Tis a wonderful place to see;
For the walls of the Shop are the great Four
Winds,
With a pattern of lightning that flares and
blinds.
And the ceiling is thunder that roars and
grinds.
As it rolls like a mad sound-sea.
And the rain plays tag with the flashing
sunbeams,
And the snow whirls softly beneath the moon's
gleams.
While light winds are passing — flight winds of
our dreams—
Wildly happy to play so free.
8
In the Element Shop all the Elements play,
And they know not nor care to know Night
from Day,
As they wait the summons th;it calls them
away —
Tis a summons they cannot flee.
The Gods of the Universe barter and sell,
And the Elements follow their biddings well
From uppermost Heaven to nethermost Hell-
And the Gods chuckle loud with glee.
Ah ! the Element Shop is a wonderful shop,
Away out where the West and the East both
stop,
And the old world knows neither bottom nor
top-
But alas ! only God can see !
itttiberiittanlitng iUhn
You who are ever sweeping ahead of me,
Tell me — what are you ?
I have seen you in the form of fresh flowers
Waving in the hill-wind.
1 have seen you rising in grey folds, with blue
lustre in your eyes, and a red flare on
your lips.
When 1 have gazed at fire.
I have seen you rocking in the white spray
under the sun.
When 1 have looked to sea.
And ever, waking or sleeping, sorrowful or
mad with joy, my heart sings with a
music
Made for you.
And which I can never understand.
10
GbiotD dt Lt H ot en Flor
Frmb tht Spttkb of MictiiMz Smoa
Haste! for the servant has brought
Shrouds for the burial Lo!
Petals of Jasmine have caught
Snow-like on foliage, and naught
Breathes but of death and of woe.
Maker of Coffins, prepare.
Seek in the forests of pine.
Wood filled with odors so rare.
Breathing of Spring, sweet and fair —
Soft for the dead to recline.
Build you the coffin with nails
Molded of silver, and bright.
Then with the sound of the flail
Let free the heart-piercing wail,
Prayer to the Powers of the Night.
Late in the night do you creep
Where 'neath the black coffins' top
Both of the dead maidens sleep;
Pluck from the sky's bluest deep.
Stars— 'tween llieir lips let them drop.
11
Call back the maidens in dreams,
Back to the wami April morns,
Back to the golden sun's beams,
Back to the moming dew's gleams —
Sounding the tabor and homs.
Ah ! that between shrouds so drear,
Beauteous Virgins should lie!
Maker of Coffins, build here
Two caskets, rich-carved, a bier
Fashioned to hold the most high.
Line them with silk, soft and fine —
Both, let them both be the same;
Each is of Springtime a sign.
Deck them with jewels that shine —
Splendor, they each shall proclaim.
One shall be carved for Rose,
One more for Blanche shall be made;
One shall be white, and pale rose.
One shall be white as the snows.
Rose-tinted — neither shall fade.
12
Caskets, pink-white, to be wrought.
Builder of Coffins, make haste —
Haste! for the shrouds have been brought.
Petals of Jasmine have caught
Snow-like on foliage — make haste !
13
^
When the winds blow and men go
Down to the sea and out on the sea in
ships,
When the night cries with its blind eyes
And a moan is trembling on its icy lips,
I am asking in my own heart
What is my part ?
For there's warmth here, and there's no fear
Of the waves' slash or the wild wind that
comes riding;
In a white light there's no fright.
And in a city house there's no terror hiding.
That's why it's hard to say:
"Things should be this way."
44
(I Htve SMfdMd Thirty YMfs» Mk Sitttfi)
From tilt Rmich of Mtticktt MMttdmck
Thirty years have I searched, sisters,
Ah! where can it be?
Thirty years have I searched, sisters.
Still it eludes me. "
Thirty years have I marched, sisters,
Tired my feet, and sore.
It was everywhere, my sisters.
Now it is no more.
That sad hour has come, my sisters.
Lay my sandals by —
E'en the evening dies, my sisters.
Sick at heart am I.
Thou art now sixteen, my sisters,
Follow then roads new.
Take my pilgrim staff, my sisters,
Go ! and search thou, too.
IS
la ;flute ^bttere be I'lSttttomne
(The Sad Flute of Atitumn)
From the French of Andie Ferdinand Herold
The sad flute of the autumn wails
Upon the dying eve ;
The wet trees shiver, dead leaves fall —
The very heavens grieve.
The wild floVers droop and gently die;
The birds have flown. Alas !
Where can another April sing
Its song through swaying grass ?
And you, my soul, do pass, heart-sick,
Forsaken paths along.
You seek, alas ! pale traveler.
In vain, the vanished song.
Ah, love, the songs which charmed us once.
In autumn ne'er return —
Yet shall I not see those eyes laugh
In which the tears now bum ?
16
iHonttrtp
ToJ.EP.
A fishing fleet and a crooked street,
With a soldier at every bar;
A *dobe wall, where the lizards crawl,
And a screechy, wobbly car.
A darksome sky with the fog blown high.
And a quiet, purple bay;
A Spanish song as we passed along —
And that was Monterey.
17
9 Hade €^rotDtt Vttp tfit^
I have grown very tired
Of hearing Right and Wrong discussed
And disputed and modified
And discussed again.
So I have made up my mind
To talk no more about them
And to listen
To Truth
Which is within me.
18
i^tiotti :f aOtng
On the light wind from the great North is the
white snow riding, riding,
Silent as death, and sweet as virgin love;
Over the dark earth, where hideous things lie
sleeping,
Flutters the stainless garment of the heaven.
O love that in the lilac-blooming hours of
vagrant summers
Fell dimly star-like through the gorgeous
night.
How mercifully white and cool-breathed are
thy kisses.
Falling, falling, trembling in their imperishable
beauty.
Fluttering on the light ^ind of departing years.
Hovering immaculate, and descending
Softly, sweetly, ever white and ever caressing,
Upon my bitter heart, where sorrow sleeps.
19
iM^tt I " -' -- A I ^ ^ « iMfc -■ - -^~ *" '' - -* '*^
draper of t^ ^Skit^tt
Lord God who taught us how to rise
Above dull mediocrity,
We thank Thee for the whitened skies
That none but us can ever see.
It is not that we would look down
In mockery on all the rest,
As wise man contemplates a clown,
With sneer that kills the other's jest.
But merely this: who is the man
That, tasting new and sweet delights,
Will fail to pity whom he can.
And glory in his new-found rights ?
Tis seldom. Lord, that in this life
There flashes out of dreary days
A joy as keen as any knife
To cut us free from sodden ways.
But sometimes there is heard a song,
Or, say, the sun has kissed the hills;
The moon gleams white and lingers long.
Or maddened sea its hate distils.
20
Whatever the pleasure, though 'tis brief,
The ecstacy is worth our pain,
One joy is worth a world of grief;
And all our waiting is not vain.
Lord God, we would not lose our power,
Though keener suflfering is its price;
We are content to have our hour
Of finer joy — let that suffice.
And so we thank Thee, God of Light,
Who saves from mediocre Hell;
From out this whirling pit of night
We ask one thing: to live life well.
21
^^«te
M iKerrp are t^e Itgliteb i^treets
Ci^tflttmaK Bap
ToO.R
All merry are the lighted streets,
Full-throated is the song,
And the song is a carol.
I have wondered what it meant.
I have looked out over the sea when the mist
was upon it,
I have waited in the streets when men went by,
I have stared at the moon when it hung like a
Chinese lantern
And crinkled in the wkter between itself and
me;
I have seen the first snow,
And felt its white hand of beauty on my brow.
I have seen dull faces
And dull eyes.
And heard dull voices;
But they have changed.
And I know why most of them have
changed —
It is because work is over,
22
And there are things waiting to be eaten.
They are right to be happy.
But I, and others — few others and therefore
the wisest —
Have drawn another conclusion.
Here it is:
Pity has lighted another candle
(Love is the flame)
Along the road,
And though we know the road has no end,
We follow it — ^because it has no end.
And our eyes flash into the dark.
As though we desired to behold Truth
Naked, and all at once.
We know that it would strike us blind, yea,
obliterate us !
But the candle illuminates another hill.
And the road climbs up its side into the dark.
We follow!
It is our inheritance !
We know that there are candles to be lighted
on ahead !
23
tfi^^i^M.AMa^feHHiMMil^to^rii.
A crow and a dove sat on the selfsame tree.
"Caw!" said the crow,
"Coo !'' said the dove.
Now the crow was all disheveled: he had been
pelted
With rocks and divers missiles hurled in anger.
Not so the dove;
He sat serene: perhaps he contemplated
On a dove-like heaven, or else
A crow-like hell
"Damnation!" cawed the crow. "This is your
fault!
If you had never existed
With your whiteness and serenity
The world would never have known
That I was black, and a nuisance."
"Coo-o-o!" said the dove.
24
Grey,
Dull, pallid, overhanging dreariness,
Bathing the room in a colorless desolation
Like the hue of a sickly, burnt-out soul.
Steam,
Hissing thinly, maliciously.
Like the gossip of sharp-nosed women
Who sit in their prim parlors.
Nothing else —
Oh, yes!
Qick-clack, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.
From the nickel-plated clock in the far
corner —
It seems to have grown into the room.
It is hard to be conscious of its flat, metallic
melody.
Great God ! and this is life !
Life which I shall never live again !
Let me out ! let me out !
Somewhere I shall find a flash of sunlight, or a
wild sweep of wind over a hill.
Or a maiden smiling.
25
Conbtctton
I am my own religion ; you are yours.
Whatever gods we have we each have made.
And he who says to you, "Accept my god !''
Has said, "Accept me!" Thus is truth
betrayed.
And ever do men follow in the dark.
Burning a sacrifice to one before;
As though the past could hold eternity,
And future hold no wisdom in its store.
The present pulls, insistent, at our minds,
And crushes if we heed her not at all;
But what is she beside infinity?
A star that trembles, waiting but to fall.
And who am I to shape your destiny?
Alas, it seems men turn to gods, these days.
Solicitous god-fathers, shaping souls;
And pointing out the errors of our ways !
26
Small wonder that in all the long-dead years,
The path of life was lit by countless fires !
Fires fed by bodies of the men who knew^
And laughed aloud from sacrificial pyres.
I am my own religion ; you are yours.
Whatever gods we have we each have made.
And fear not ! When eternity revolves,
Be not of any other's god afraid.
27
«
t
Si Cimceiitton
The things we should have done and did not do
Array themselves like ghosts before our
eyes.
And every mom that starts our life anew
Brings on new ghosts to take u^ by surprise.
What shall we say? What is there to be said ?
We understood, and yet we did not act.
Shall we but hang a humble, contrite head,
And pray for mercy to the All-wise Fact ?
Or shall we throw regrets upon the wind.
And face the future with a new-bora sight ?
Condemn the dusty past, and try to find
A new eternity in every night ?
This much we know: the soul is like a star,
And is not made and unmade in an hour;
But stands against the winds that blast and
scar,
Like some divine, imperishable flower.
28
The things we might have done and did not do
Passed like the winds that blew from out the
Space;
And lo ! our souls that are no longer new
Turn forward each a strong and starlike
face!
29
Vrotutformatum
Great God ! was ever aught more fair
Than the virgin moon asleep in the tranquil
heavens?
From the harsh and troublous day
With its noises and its glamour
And its surge of human discord,
I escape to thee,
Mirror of my radiant soul,
And once more.
As if by a divine miracle,
I am made clean and holy and at peace with all
things.
30
-■^ ^u rf ^^~~^~~■ -•
The s^eps of Night quicken,
The wind stills to a faint breath —
Cool from the high snow crevices of distant
hills;
Over the sea,
Where through the day the grey and purple
shadows have been dancing,
Comes a slow and soft-toned pink,
Flooding the waters
With its strange and delicate blushes.
Till they push upon the land.
And the slapping wavelets turn them back.
Piling them on each other
In rippling confusion.
See ! up over the waves.
Out, far out through the hovering mist of
evening.
Flaring like a wound in the breast of heaven,
Crimson and gold, and dripping streams of
light
On the jagged and darkening island^
The Sun cries, "Hail! Farewell!''
31
In the wild raiii and the hot, pulsating sunlight
Of a southern island that is strange to me,
You sit, you girl with eager eyes.
And I remember
That all your dreams were woven of fine stuff,
Brocaded things that startled with their beauty.
But here in the far north.
Where grey is etertially on the land and on the
sea,
I, too, have woven dreams not unlike yours;
And I am lifted up.
Burning with a new flame,
Inwardly exalted to a high heaven of
understanding.
To know that space is nothing.
And that dreams are everything!
32
3Nlttfum
I saw a star break through the evening sky,
And as it split the bowl of blue it said:
"Lo! night is come P'
I turned to where thou stood'st beside me
watching,
And looked within thine eyes;
And then I said:
"Beloved, the star spake a lie.
For behold! I see the day!"
33
9 Habe Ptttttieb a Citobel
I have builded a citadel round my heart;
Through the years of my youth eagerly have I
builded,
And the citadel is of dreams,
And therefore strong.
Now at last I am sitting alone with the towers
and minarets
Pricking the sky of my fancy.
A cloud passes
Hark ! what is that at the gates ?
It is not a clatter; it is not a booming; nor is it
aught that I have ever heard before !
I thought at first it was music,
And then a wave of perfume,
Or the fluttering of leaves
In a midnight wind.
But the towers tremble.
And the lights in the minarets are shaken —
A star falls
34
Now I can hear it !
There are footsteps on the marble staircase,
Drawing nearer, nearer; they have almost
reached me —
I am struck blind with an exalted fear, a
divine grief!
Beloved !
The citadel is falling It is sacred dust at
our feet!
We will gather it up in our bare hands
And build an altar to Truth.
35
itong
Whenever I have seen a flower
Kissed with summer dew
Tve known that it was by God's power
The tender blossom grew.
Whenever stars burst through the night
All radiant and divine
I knew that God gave them their light
And bade them sweetly shine.
And now at last my soul has learned
The thing of all most true—
Ah, deep within my heart 'tis burned,
That God made you, made you !
36
Tonight there rose a star so fair
Across the misty sea;
And as I watched it burning there
Behold ! I gazed at thee !
Each night I shall with eager eyes
Seek out thy blessed face;
And lo ! within my heart shall rise
Peace — and an untold grace!
y
37
The ships that are Alaska-bound
Ride bravely forth against the sky,
And we who watch along the Sound
And lift our eyes when they go by
Can only stand and gaze and sigh.
At dawn when all the sea is grey,
A phantom ship slides through the mist ;
And to the northward cuts her way.
As if to keep a ghostly tryst.
With some far sea that she has kissed.
At midday when the sun is lord,
A gleaming ship drives through the deep;
Her prow is like a curvM sword,
Slashing the sea with every leap,
And winning north with valiant sweep.
At twilight when the sky is red,
A ship of flame, so strange and pale.
Like some poor wandering cloud that fled
The blazing sun, with drooping sail
Lies calm, forlorn, in nighf s silk veil.
38
When moonlight glimmers on the land,
And dances on the silent sea,
A ship, drawn by the night-wind's hand.
Glides like a spirit-shape set free
On through a dim eternity.
The ships that are Alaska-bound
Ride bravely forth against the sky.
And we who watch along the Sound
May never know until we die
Aught else of these ships passing by.
39
From this high hill above the city's heart
The day dies splendidly.
No wrack or anguish sees the light depart,
But peace, from off the sea.
Far down, long towers of smoke lean with the
wind.
Above the huddled shops;
The sun, blood-orange, glimmers dim behind.
And paints the high hilltops.
The night that gathers thus, silent and swift.
Seems not of day the foe;
But rather some dark mistress come to lift
Day out of human woe.
Sweet-lipped and dreamy-eyed she hovers
down.
Her hair in fragrant folds;
And in the fluttering rapture of her gown.
The pallid stars she holds.
40
Red sun, and whiter light upon the land,
She wraps within her arms;
And lo ! the very softness of her hand
Stills all the world's alarms.
41
Five fingers of a maple leaf,
All red and green and brown ;
Upturned beside the clean-swept path,
That runs beyond the town.
Think not I do not see thee there.
Nor understand thy call ;
I know full well thine every word —
My heart, it keeps them all.
I hear thee say, "Forsake thy toil
And come with me away,
To where the Autumn holds her court.
And paints a brilliant day.
"Where curtains are of shining red.
And carpets are of gold;
Where sun and mist woo every hill.
And fragrance fills the wold.
"Where not a human voice is heard.
Nor any plaint of woe;
No soul cries out against the night,
Nor arm strikes down a foe.
42
"But one thing speaks — it is a wind,
That blows from heaven's gate;
And all it says is this one song:
'Come, ere it is too late !* "
Five fingers of a maple leaf.
All red and green and brown —
A kindly hand upturned to me.
To lead me from the town.
I would with all my yearning heart
That I might heed thy call;
But I must pass thee rudely by,
And seek a dreary hall.
43
i^ons tn &bsitatt
When falls the dusk of discontent,
And the long hours flare and fade
Like dim and distant candle-lights
The wind has made afraid —
What shall I then seek,0 my love ?
Shall it be the cool of the western wind,
Or the sea, with its heavy breath ?
The red, mad dance of the sodden soul.
Or the soft, white sleep of death ?
For these kill discontent, my love.
Nay, not for me shall these things serve.
Though earth grow black as doom.
For I shall sit here quietly
And see, beyond the gloom,
Thy face's rapture, O my love.
44
^ Sfacet . . .
Behold this purple evening by the sea !
With far and misty moonlight streaming
through;
And western wind that carries light and free
The fragrance of the summer evening's dew.
Ah, cherished hopes that fade out with the
stars,
And make our dreams the vague, uncertain
lights
We live by, hold but for this hour the bars
That change our brilliant dream-morns into
nights !
Be with us yet, ye moons that pierce the dark.
And cross the purple shadows of our days !
For wide the sea is where we must embark.
And few the lights that cheer us on our
ways.
Too soon some purple evening by the sea
With far and misty moonlight streaming
through
Will find us where the west wind loves to be.
And we shall be — but summer evening's
dew!
45
Imilietit
A clatter in the narrow court,
The ambulance engine's throb;
Then footsteps, orders — ^low and short —
The turning of a knob.
And something to support.
Four men in white — such noiseless men-
Bear swiftly through the door
The Thing that's covered. Quickly then
More figures join the four —
The Thing moves on again.
They lay it on a marble space.
Within four whitened walls;
And then they bare the covered face,
And lo ! about it falls
A mass of golden lace.
It is not hair — ^the kind we know —
It fails in folds of light.
Like clouds star-flecked that westward go
With coming of the night —
All red and gold they glow.
46
White marble is the table-top,
And red-gold is her hair;
And in a stream that will not stop
Red blood runs down her hair,
And stains the marble top.
The white men gather close around,
And touch her thin, white hands.
That lie across her breast, close-bound
With long and golden bands
Of hair that they unwound.
One cheek lies bare beneath the hair.
No more than this revealed;
And pale with Death this cheek— and fair!
What secret Death concealed
Will hide forever there.
47
i^omiet to i^ikttu
Silence is sweeter far than any sound,
And dearer than the words we blunder o*er.
What nameless peace we draw from out its
store !
What ecstacy that speech has never found !
And often in such silence I have wound,
With blessed reverence unknown before.
Thy hair about my face — ^loving thee more
Than any king his queen whom he has
crowned.
So silence is, and we who know its charm
Shall seek within its rapture-halls for peace
And unmarred love that heeds not time nor
place —
The silence-world where fear and loud alarm
Of living, fighting, failing, ever cease —
And I shall wind thy hair about my face.
48
tS^e $at|) of ^ Sletttnitng
The sun has laid a path of gold
Across the sober stretch of sea,
And if one walks that path, I'm told.
He is f orevermore set free.
No cry of pain can follow him.
Nor can his weary eyes look back;
The years behind grow far and dim —
He sees naught but the golden track.
Where does it lead ? Not one can tell ;
But this much we can know is true:
That he who follows long and well
Does not come back to me and you!
49
Thou Temptress, Moon, so pale across the sea.
With silver, gleaming arms outstretched to me,
While we two walk abroad this summer
night !
Ah, Lovely Mistress of the Land of Light,
Thou canst not draw me from the lips of one
Whose very presence thou indeed shouldst
shun
For shame and envy to be thus excelled.
These many nights have she and I beheld
Thy lonely splendor from this self -same
shore —
Thy radiance mantling her whom I adore.
And blending lips and eyes and tangled hair
Into a lovely and a fragrant snare
For such a heart as mine. So, Temptress pale,
Thy beauty is not all without avail.
We leave thee thus — ^thy gleaming arms
still spread
Across the sea, thy gently drooping head
Soft-cushioned in the blankets of the sky —
But we shall see thee more — My Love and L
So
My latticed window opens on the street,
And when night closes in upon the day,
I listen at my window for the feet
Of one who climbs the hill to pass this way.
And, waiting here, I catch the lilac's smell.
And hear the rolling melody of surf —
The pines above the house have cast their spell
In lengthening shadows on the wild-grown
turf.
Dear Heart, the day has not been all misspent
If you but keep the promise of your eyes
And follow here the lilac's magic scent
To take my latticed window by surprise.
51
look, lobe, ttpon tfie S^ta
Look, Love, upon the sea —
The ripples, moonlit from the brow of heaven.
The high and lighted places through yon tree.
Where holy whiteness hangs,
And there is no discord !
One solemn breath that lingers as a sigh
From lips half parted — spoke to one adored —
A sigh, and that is all.
Yet, Love, beyond the sea.
Beyond the whitened ripples and the light.
Where such a night as this can never be.
Are dark, eternal woes !
Are far and misty places!
Where cold unloveliness sojourns, and love
Is stranger. See, the hideous, mist-blown faces
Look out upon us now!
52
Love, let us leave the sea —
Leave far behind the agony of sin,
From deathlike visions of the cold mist flee
And seek the high hills* peace.
The tall pines' quietness !
It is a darksome world — ^beyond this place—
And lest the one of us should love the less,
Come ! Let us leave the sea !
S3
tl^tmfifyti on a i^inrntg ^lisfyt
Light air of the spring-born night,
Smoke-haze of the softening light,
And the day gives up its strength.
Shops darken — doors swing to;
Footsteps dwindle to a few.
And I walk the dim street's length.
Yellow-blue and yellow-grey —
These are the dying tints of day.
Misty-dim are the city's lamps —
Misty-dim from the mellow damps.
And down the dim and yellow way
I pass.
Beloved, if thou were but here!
The mist-dimmed night would then grow clear.
The unnamed stars, love-born, would shine,
And this dull air become rich wine
To drown ourselves in ! . . . Ah, a tear.
Instead.
54
Svit of tfie Bettrt
The sun set red tonight !
And oh, if thou had stood
With me beneath that light
Which flamed above the sand,
Thou could have understood
Things I now understand —
The sun set red tonight !
The sun set red tonight !
And all the purple mist —
That mist of our delight —
Grew rose-red on the hills,
And all the clouds were kissed
And made red as the hills —
The sun set red tonight !
The sun set red tonight !
And as I saw the world
Flame red beneath the light
I saw two hearts of youth
Blend rose-red with the world-
The rose-red world of youth —
The sun set red tonight!
55
Out of the East, grown grey,
Silently, Dawn was bom.
Out of the Dawn grew Day,
Blossoming into Mom.
Lo! as the young Mom breathed.
All of the sweet flowers woke.
Shaking the perfumed dew
Loose from their velvet cloak.
Petals of peach-bloom fell
Fluttering on the wings.
Light wings of East-blown winds —
Winds that the warm Dawn brings.
So, as the young Mora came.
Flower-folk, passion-wrung.
Loving too much, drooped low.
Quivered, then fell, far-flung.
E'en so did my full heart —
Gift of the budding Spring —
Open to welcome Mom,
Of him did my soul sing.
56
My heart — as fallen flowers —
When the Mom*s soft breath came
Laden with drowsy love,
Withered from love's own flame.
Out of the West, grown grey.
Silently, Night was bom.
Night, he who brings the Day,
Blossoming into Mora.
57
lai tRtntAiisfyt on tfie Bettrt
Desert night ! and all the red
And gold of desert day has fled,
Leaving the sands —
Those changing sands —
As cold and dreary as the dead,
In desert night.
Solitude ! not e'en the wind
Dares break the desert spells which bind
The silent sands —
Night, desert sands —
And in them shall I never find
But solitude ?
Thy tent-light ! ah, there it gleams
Afar in desert night, its beams
Thrown o'er the sands —
Night, desert sands —
Beloved, I shall seek in dreams
Thy far tent-light!
58
Three kisses are to each man given,
Three, and only three.
Each kiss is one third part of heaven;
The soul is but these three.
The first is at the mother's breast,
The kiss of birth;
The second is love's kiss, the best,
(We know love's worth);
The third is death's kiss, white and blest,
Farewell to earth.
59
Sometimes when I have looked upon the sea,
In moonlight, or beneath the brighter sun,
I have been moved to say, "That is like
Death."
An endless, governed restlessness of waves, ,
Lapping the myriad sands of unknown shores.
And yet a heavy liquid peace within,
A strong, strange bosom of eternity.
Sometimes, too, I have looked upon the land.
When miracles of seed have hailed the spring.
And then, too, have I said, "That is like
Death."
A bursting from the embryo of Life,
Into the fulness of a thousand fruits.
The radiant flowering of the obscure spark
Into a world of God-like magnitude.
60
Again, I have looked straight into the sun,
And, blinded by its universal light,
I have said to myself, "That is like Death."
A space which body never can traverse,
A vast, exultant rhythm, and a warmth
Which clutches at tiie soul, and draws it in.
Uniting it forever with its fire.
61
I am braiding my hair in the dark, O my love,
And the touch of my hands on the sweet-
smelling strands
Sings a song in the dark, O my love.
There's a wind, a wild wind, on the sea, O my
love,
And a storm on the hill,that I fear may blow
ill-
Ill to you and to me, O my love.
I am ever afraid when I wait, O my love.
And I turn down the light, for my eyes they
are bright —
Oh, so bright when I wait, O my love.
I have let down my hair, soft and sweet, O my
love,
And it covers me well, like a shield from a
spell.
And it kisses my feet, O my love.
62
I am braiding it now in two strands, O my
love,
And I pray that this night it may wind itself
tight
O'er your face and your hands, O my love.
• • « •
■ » • •
63
• • r u
• » s • ,
HEBB, THBN, BND THB VEBSBS OF DREAMS,
TBARNIN08 AND JOYS OF LIFE BY GLENN
HUGHES ENTITLED SOULS* PRINTED ON
TUSCANY HANDMADE PAPER AND MADE INTO
A BOOK BY PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY AT
THEIR TOMOYE PRESS IN THE CITY OF SAN
FRANCISCO, UNDER THE CAREFUL DIRECTION
OF RICARDO J. OROZCO, IN THE MONTH OF
OCTOBER, NINETEEN HUNDRED SEVENTEEN
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Books to Borrow
Open Library
TV News
Understanding 9/11